


Forged in Silver (and Blue)

by ashtopop



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtopop/pseuds/ashtopop
Summary: “I don’t think the Warden Commander likes me very much,” Anders said, his nose almost in the cup of liquor before him as he peered into its depths in a show of morose heartache. “Do you think it’s my earring?”“Yes,” Nate said with the utter surety of someone who could not care less, taking a drink of his own pint. “Obviously.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Theneras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theneras/gifts).



Anders hadn’t seen the Warden Commander much since his Joining. While he caught her looking at him at dinner and occasionally found new supplies beside his bunk, each time she left the Keep she unerringly took the other wardens.

“I don’t think the Warden Commander likes me very much,” Anders said, his nose almost in the cup of liquor before him as he peered into its depths in a show of morose heartache. “Do you think it’s my earring?”

“Yes,” Nate said with the utter surety of someone who could not care less, taking a drink of his own pint. “Obviously.”

“Can’t charm another skirt, skirty?” Oghren said, ale sloshing out of his cup as he sat it back down with force. “Why don’tchya go over and ask her?” Anders peeked up over the group’s heads, spotting the Warden Commander in the corner, reading over reports with a wine glass in her hand. “Twenty coppers says you don’t have the stones.”

Anders rose, a slightly unsteady wobble to his gait, and looked down at them before he turned from the table and headed to Surana’s corner.

“One silver says he doesn’t figure it out,” Sigrun said, simultaneous looks of disbelief around the table turning toward her. “What?”

“Nobody wants to take a bet they know they’ll lose,” Nate said, taking another drink.

Across the room, Anders coughed to get her attention, waiting on the edge of her peripheral vision. She seemed to be reading some requisition request for stone—probably for the enhanced Vigil’s Keep defenses—and she held up her hand for a moment as she scribbled instructions or notes in the margin. 

“Yes?” she asked. Her eyes were green, like the grass he’d kissed each time he escaped from the tower. He’d never noticed before. She turned them back to her report quickly. He swallowed hard, mind turning slowly through the fog of alcohol.

“Hi,” he said.

“Uh, hi?” she replied. Silence stretched between them like an awkward gulf, even in the midst of the raucous energy of the tavern. Anders nodded, rolling back on his heels with a bounce.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it then,” he said. She nodded again, again looking up to meet his eyes, her cheeks ruddy, and he returned to the table, where he promptly put his head on the table, pulling his arms around it to hide himself from the tavern.

“She hates me,” he said, voice muffled by his sleeves.

Money was exchanged.

* * *

 

Surana thumped her head against the wall. Build an army. Kill an archdemon. _Save the fucking world._ Those were things she could, and had, done. Act like a normal, functioning person in front of Anders, object of girlhood fantasy? No. Never. She thumped her head against the wall again, letting her forehead rest against the cool stone.

Maker, she was a mess, but she felt terrible about conscripting him into the Wardens. Any of them, really, but especially him. She’d heard the stories of his escapes passed among initiates like a form of emotional currency, stories that belied the impossibility of stone walls with the possibility of blue sky and apostasy  He’d become something like a folk hero to them, a symbol of rebellion even in the small things. He said he knew what they’d been saying about him in the Circle, but surely he didn’t know the depth of hero worship they— _she_ —had felt for him.

To then take his freedom forcibly and irrevocably felt… she closed her eyes. It hadn’t been her favorite moment—sitting over him, wondering if he would wake up or if she would be executioner and her order instrument in his demise. And since he’d survived she’d let him out of the Vigil exactly once. It was probably starting to feel like another tower to him. She sighed, pulling away from the wall and peeling armor off as she moved toward her bed. A trip to Amaranthine would do them all some good.

* * *

 

An elven woman stopped them before they hit the Amaranthine gates, pulling Anders to the side and sending furtive glances at the group. Nate and Oghren looked to the Warden for instructions, but she merely shrugged, waiting for Anders’ conversation to conclude.

“It is? You found it?” Anders exclaimed. Surana leaned on her staff, watching.

“I did. What you do with that information is up to you. I, for one, am done dealing with mages.” Her stare went from Anders to over his shoulder, meeting Surana’s eyes.

“Er, I guess I should thank you,” Anders started.

“Damned right you should. You get caught Anders, I’m not helping you again. That’s all I’m saying.” She stalked away into the countryside.

“I… suppose that requires some explanation,” Anders chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s normally more welcoming than that. A lot more. Samaya is… a friend. Last time I escaped from the tower, I asked her to look into some things. That’s why I was in Amaranthine. The templars thought I’d come to take a ship, but it was to meet her.”

“And what did she learn, looking into ‘some things?’” Surana asked, leaning her head against her staff. Anders cleared his throat, looking at the two members of their party who were not mages with some trepidation.

“During the Blight, the templars moved their store of phylacteries to Amaranthine for safety-“

“Their off-site storage, you mean.”

“No, I mean- what?”

“ _The ones they had left_. I destroyed every phylactery in the Tower on my way out.” Anders went silent, his eyebrows lifting. “Motivation… probably not the Blight.”

“You received your Harrowing before that, though, right? And my Harrowing was years ago. My phylactery—and possibly _your_ phylactery—are in a storehouse in Amaranthine. I know we’re busy killing darkspawn and all, but-“

“You don’t have to convince me, Anders. Let’s go.”

The warehouse was unguarded, but the small hairs at the back of Surana’s neck stood on end even as Anders attempted to explain it away.

“Could we be that lucky?” Anders asked. Surana shot him a look. “You’re right. Probably not.”

“On your guard, everyone.”

In a small room at the back they found the Templar ambush headed by Lieutenant Rylock. She smirked as they entered, crossing her arms in her heavy plate mail.

“And here I almost believed the infamous Anders wouldn’t take the bait.”

“Ah. Yes. I suppose I should have known it would be you,” Anders said, bitterness in the back of his throat.

“You made a poor choice with this one, Commander. Anders will never submit, not to us and not to you.”

“Anders has undergone the Right of Conscription under the auspices of the King of Ferelden. You have no more authority over him than you do over me.”

“The Chantry’s authority supersedes the crown in this matter. You cannot hide within the Grey Warden’s ranks.”

“And Grey Warden authority supersedes the Chantry’s in all matters pertaining to the Blight, which runs in Anders’ veins” Surana said by rote, eyes flashing. “What’s more, I _dare_ you to try. I will strike you down where you stand, Templar.” Every eyebrow in the party rose at Surana’s uncharacteristic display of aggression. The fight was over in moments.

“We’ll strip them,” Surana said, going about the task with ruthless efficiency. “Burn the bodies. I’ll give the armor to Harren as scrap to be melted down. Don’t take anything shiny that screams ‘I looted this off a fresh Templar corpse'”

Oghren clapped her on the back, putting his foot against the nearest dead Templar’s to check the size of his boots. Anders stood apart, a confused mix of emotions rising in him he was unable to quell by swallowing them down. 

* * *

 

She found him slumped in a corner of the Keep they used for storing armor, his head in his hands and his blonde hair spilling over his fingers. She sat down next to him, her back against the stone wall.

“My best friend, Jowan, used to tell me stories of your escapes,” she said, smiling, her head against the cobblestone wall. “No idea where he heard them. Actually, at the time I thought they were all bullshit. Jumping into the lake?” She snorted.

“How did you get out?” he asked, looking up from his silent contemplation.

“Borrowed a rod of fire to break into the basement cache, despoiled a chantry sister and fled into the night cackling, obviously.” This time he laughed, his knee brushing hers and his laughter echoing in the small space.

“That’s… not a method I’ve tried,” he said, laughter in his voice. She put her hand on his knee, squeezing in reassurance..

“You won’t need to try again. Look, I know the taint isn’t an ideal instrument of escape, and… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Warden Commander,” he said, a grin plastered over anything he felt before. The grin fell a bit as he continued. “It’s nice not to feel afraid, for once."

She leaned forward before she could stop herself, pressing her lips to his. It was short, but warm like a bath she longed to settle into. And then she yanked herself away, blush riding high on her cheeks. Anders’ eyes were wide with surprise, but lingered on her lips even as she pulled away.

“Oh, Maker. I- I am so sorry. That was a _total_ violation of your trust and of- of-“ He pressed closer, chasing her mouth as he leaned over her. This kiss was heated, their breaths mingling in the heightened magical energy of their meeting, tingling on skin as their mana pools lapped against each other.

Anders pulled away eventually, settling back against the wall and looking at her with raised brows. She pressed her fingers to swollen lips, tracing their edges, and fighting the blush that threatened to sear through her skin.

“I thought you didn’t like me!” Anders huffed through low laughter, his palm on his forehead and his eyes closed.

In the tavern, Sigrun passed Nate a silver in silence.


End file.
